


the goddesses of ten-b

by betony



Category: The Chronicles of Chrestomanci - Diana Wynne Jones
Genre: Gen, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Sacrifice, Series Ten
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-02
Updated: 2014-09-02
Packaged: 2018-02-15 19:58:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2241549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/betony/pseuds/betony





	the goddesses of ten-b

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kitmarlowed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitmarlowed/gifts).



Honestly (although of course no one believed her later), it all came down to being Nicky Bedford’s fault. If he hadn’t been so _nice_ and funny and complimentary about how handsome Julia looked when they had met at the French Ambassador’s wife’s tea last month, Julia wouldn’t have gone to such lengths with dressing up for the dinner she next expected to see him, and might have entirely avoided what happened instead. 

It didn’t hurt, too, that Nicky was terribly good-looking, too, but Julia had a terrible time convincing anyone. Cat was too shy, Roger had no patience for anything that wasn’t made up of gears or wasn’t called Joe Pinhoe, and Marianne’s taste in men apparently tended towards the Cat-like. Even Janet, when appealed to, only said loftily, “I shouldn’t call him anything like handsome, but I expect you’re so used to your father as to have different standards entirely.” 

As though Janet were any judge! She was too busy pining over her friend Olivia, who was starting at Oxford this term, to pay proper attention to _anything_. 

So Julia was still sitting at her dressing-table at half past seven that significant evening, trying desperately to decide whether to wear her pearls or the nice sapphire locket Dad had given her for her birthday, when Mum came up to see what was taking her so long. 

Julia whirled around, ready to angrily defend herself, but all Mum said was: “Julia, my love, is anything the matter? Everyone’s waiting downstairs for you.” 

That was the worst thing about Mum. You could never have a blazing row with her, even when you wanted to, because Mum was so gentle and sensible about everything that every shout, every insult rolled off her like water from a duck’s back. It was enough to drive a person mad! Julia couldn’t see how Dad had put up with her for so many years, and had tried to say so at dinner at one night, but instead of seeing the obvious truth of her words, Dad had just given her a sharp look and taken away half her pocket money for a month. 

Mum hadn’t said anything, but just a week later, Julia had come across her in conservatory telling Uncle Conrad, who’d been visiting for the last month, “—and you know sixteen is such a difficult age.” 

“Don’t I just,” said Uncle Conrad, lips twitching, “I was around when you were sixteen. And more to the point, when _Christopher_ was sixteen.” 

Here Uncle Conrad and Mum both paused to shudder. Julia took that as her cue to march haughtily out of hiding behind a large bush, pausing only to give Mum a reproachful look on her way out of the room and to wilt all the ferns in their china pots behind her. 

But to return to the point. Mum said, in that awful I-am-right-my-darling-as-always-and-doesn’t-it-drive-you-mad voice of hers: “Julia, my love, is anything the matter? Everyone’s waiting downstairs for you” and Julia, who could hardly explain about Nicky Bedford and how he’d whispered into her ear as he handed her into her car that she reminded him of the night sky, only stared sulkily back. 

It turned out she didn’t need to, because Mum took one look at how she hadn’t put on any jewelry yet, much less her coat and shoes, breathed, “Oh dear,” and neatly glided across the room to Julia’s side. Mum took down Julia’s hair, which Julia had managed to put up perfectly well all by herself, and repinned it in place. Admittedly it looked much better that way, with loose tendrils framing her face purposefully rather than haphazardly tumbling down, but that was just one more reason why Mum was exasperating. It was as though there wasn’t any reason to try to do something right when Mum could do it herself, and probably much better than you. 

It was when Mum was fastening the pearls around her neck (after Julia had just about almost made up her mind that the locket would have been the better choice) that it happened, almost anticlimactically, given the circumstances. One moment, Mum and Julia were the only ones in the room; the next, the universe seemed to come undone for a moment and another Julia stood beside them. 

After a better look, the newcomer turned out not be Julia after all, or at least not precisely. She had rather swarthier skin, and certainly nicer eyelashes, framing eyes as dark as Julia’s own but somehow larger. Julia comforted herself on the fact that if nothing else, at least she had cheekbones. 

Mum being Mum, she adjusted the pearls around Julia’s neck, and, one hand gripping Julia’s shoulder, murmured: “My goodness, my dove! It must have taken a great deal out of you, crossing not just worlds but series, as well!” 

Not-Julia bowed her head, in a way that seemed distractingly exotic. (Julia resolved to take notes.) “The power of a goddess guided me,” she intoned, “as I came, desperate, to seek your help, Twice-born Lady.” --and that would have been more than enough to pique Julia’s interest, even if it weren’t for the fact that Mum’s mouth turned downward slightly with dismay. 

”I’m afraid--” Mum began, but Julia cut in, excitedly, “—Oh, but, _Mum_ , we have to help! It’s like something out of Dad’s old _Arabian Nights_! An invitation to an adventure, we can’t possibly turn it down!” 

The other not-quite-Julia began to look hopeful at that, but that hope receded as Mum said, in her most quelling tones, “I’m afraid you’d be better served taking it up with my husband, Chrestomanci.” Which, of course, meant that this poor girl would end up handed from one member of the Family to another until she gave up or someone finally remembered she existed. Julia was old enough to see that this was Mum and Dad’s favorite way to disposing with inconveniences. “He’d be far more effective than I at—“ 

Julia opened her mouth to try again, but it seemed her counterpart had had quite enough. In one smooth movement, she stepped forward, grasped both their wrists— 

\--And then, it seemed, they weren’t in England any more. Instead, they were in a smoky market under an orange sun, with something quite ticklish burning into an incense holder nearby. People bustled around, chattering in a language that almost made sense to Julia, but not quite. Most telling of all, the pearls around Julia’s neck began to screech: _I belong to Chrestomanci Castle! I belong to Chrestomanci Castle!”_ and really made quite a nuisance until Julia irritably pulled them off and stuffed them into the folds of her bodice. 

“Oh dear,” said Mum. 

* * *

Not-quite Julia, whose name turned out to be Juhi--which Julia found quite dashing—led them back to her house. It was not as pleasant a trek as it could have been. Julia’s best evening dress was not at all the thing to wear in the sweltering heat, and she suffered several not undeserved curious glances, wondering what in heaven’s name she was thinking. To distract herself, she studied Juhi’s profile. It was rather odd; somehow she had never given much thought at all to having a duplicate. After all, there was only one Dad, and somehow she had always assumed that that would mean he would only have one set of children in all the worlds. 

But of course that wasn’t right; otherwise, she and Roger would have been nine-lived enchanters, and Cat was the only nine-lived enchanter anyone knew of. She supposed that barring any alternative, she and Roger must have gone with Mum and whoever else she had married other than Dad. It was a strange thought to consider, almost like a loose tooth.

Juhi lived with her brother Rajiv and her mother on the outskirts of town. It seemed her mother had been widowed some years before, which, thought Julia guiltily, was something of a relief. She didn’t much fancy the idea of seeing a stranger where Dad was meant to be. 

The strangest part was seeing Mum’s duplicate. Unlike Julia and Juhi, she did look exactly like Mum; except a tad wearier, and almost haughtier. But she had the same features and the same crinkles about her eyes, and when she smiled, it was as though Mum was standing before a mirror. Altogether, it made for a disconcerting effect. 

Mum nodded in her politest way. “Your daughter mentioned the powers of a goddess,” she said without further preamble, but you likely didn’t need any when talking to another version of yourself, “and I can sense Asheth’s hand on her. I can hardly imagine I, in any world, would be so shortsighted as to dedicate a child of mine.” 

The duplicate stared for a moment, and laughed, though there didn’t seem to be anything funny about it. “Dedicate her?” she said. “Whatever do you mean?” 

The story came out slowly, in bits Julia had to piece together because everyone else seemed well acquainted with Asheth, while Julia had to make do with the knowledge that that had once been her mother’s identity and a good bit of Church of England theology. It seemed that in the world that Mum was from, Asheth had been a young girl who’d taken up arms against demons, surviving a thousand deaths because she promised the fates a thousand lives in return. That was why the Living Asheth always had had to be sacrificed in Mum’s world, or at least in the view of the people, so her debt could be repaid. 

In the duplicate world, or 10B as Mum called it, it seemed Asheth had survived, long enough at least to find herself lonely enough to create a daughter for herself from the blood of her enemies. All had gone along very smoothly for sixteen years until a drought fell upon the land, and Asheth, once appealed to, realized the only way to water the fields again was to turn her daughter back to the blood from which she had been made and use that to make the ground fertile again. So naturally it was not the Living Asheth who must be sacrificied, but her firstborn daughter once she had turned sixteen. Mum's duplicate had refused, of course, and for that reason had been thrown out of the temple some years back. But now her daughter had reached her sixteenth years, and Asheth could only be denied for so long. 

All of a sudden, Juhi’s decision to cross worlds to seek out help made far more sense. 

But now there was really nothing to worry about. Mum was there, and Mum could fix it effortlessly, like she did everything else, and they would be back home and at the party before Nicky Bedford could even nibble at his hors d’oeurves. At least there was a benefit to Mum’s appalling efficiency. It was only a matter of time.

* * *

Unfortunately Mum's appalling efficiency involved yet another long trek across the marketplace. Julia was becoming rather sick of it by this point, as much from the heat as from the press of bodies. No one else seemed to have any trouble with it; Juhi and her mother slithered between people with the greatest of ease, and even Mum despite her skirts sailed unharmed after them, but Julia seemed to almost always fall afoul of stray elbows. 

Mum fell back after a while. "How are you doing?" she asked, reaching for Julia's hand, though it was hardly as though she were an infant who'd be trampled if left alone. 

"Not bad," said Julia, trying for cool competency, but only managing to get the words out through a pant. This was worse than when she and Roger had been young, and Dad had had them on that wretched exercise regimen. To make matters worse, her last few ragged breaths dislodged the pearls, and they began screaming shrilly in her ear once again. 

"I wish they'd _stop_ ," Julia whined as Mum slipped the pearls back under her frock where they'd be muffled. "Silly things, they would have been quiet at the party tonight!" 

"I expect it was the shift in worlds that confused them," soothed Mum. "Your father had to learn the hard way to disenchant anything that might be on him when he was called away suddenly." 

Which reminded Julia of something. "I don't see why you tried to fob this off on Dad. It's hardly as though you aren't managing." 

Mum looked severe--or as severe as Mum ever did. "At the moment, I am. And if I am to continue, I expect you to be careful, Julia. This world specializes in mind-magic of a nasty enough sort that you wouldn't have seen. Stay with me, and try not to draw too much attention to yourself." 

"I _know_ Mum," Julia said, even though she'd forgotten until just that moment. Mum seemed to know this, as she didn't let go of Julia's hand at all, choosing instead to drag her along like a tugboat. 

Julia did her best to not to sulk. 

* * *

The Temple of Asheth in this world was _lovely_. Julia had been, once or twice, to the Temple where Mum had lived so that she and Roger could be introduced to Mother Proudfoot. Instead this world had marble floors with swirls of gold everywhere, and in the center, a golden image of a somber woman with four arms. 

"Golden Asheth," murmured Mum, and her duplicate nodded. Once again Julia was forcibly reminded that Mum had, once upon a time, been Asheth; but it was terribly difficult to connect Mum, and her solidness, with the ethereal beauty of the statue. She opened her mouth to say something of the sort but she caught a glimpse of Mum's face first. Mum looked rather drawn . It was so unexpected that it frightened Julia back into silence. 

Just then, the doors flew open, and two priestesses (they could be nothing else, dressed as fantastically as they were) entered. They were surrounded by fierce-looking women carrying spears--the Arm of Asheth, Julia corrected herself, determined not to sound ignorant when she knew better--as well as a small army of cats. One splendid orange cat, that brought Throgmorton to mind, sniffed in her direction and deigned to approach. 

"Here, my sweet," Julia cooed, thinking they'd be just as biddable as the Castle cats, but this one hissed and spat at her, and unlike the cats she knew, she suspected it meant every bit of the threat. 

"What's this?" said one of the priestesses, rather beady-eyed, having gotten a good look at Mum. "Asheth in her wonder decides to twin herself?" 

"Or perhaps one's the true and one the false," answered another, and warming to the idea: "Perhaps we're meant to decide which!" She looked between the two duplicates, and, apparently picking Mum at random, knelt before her. "Golden Mother, I pray for your blessing--" 

"If you're looking for this world's Asheth, you'll see it's not me. I prefer to go by Lady Chant these days," said Mum calmly, "though Asheth left her mark on me as she does on us all. And with that authority, I must assure you that Asheth's mercy will abide with you regardless if the sacrifices are really killed or not." She paused. "I speak from experience." 

"But we'll starve!" said the priestess who knelt, but her beady-eyed companion said, "And who's to say it isn't a test? Or a sign? The sacrifice is here, and perhaps Asheth means to tempt us to dereliction, hoping to witness our fidelity with her own eyes." 

"Don't you dare!" said Mum's duplicate, apparently only just having found her voice--and that was something to consider, too, what living so long in the temple had done to her, and by extension, to Mum. 

"As interesting an idea as that is--" Mum began, but Juhi interrupted her, speaking in a loud, frightened voice: "There, her! All you need is the daughter of the goddess, don't you? She's one, too, and what's more, she's got far more magic than I do, I had to borrow Mum's even to find her and bring her to you!" 

As one, the priestesses swung their heads in Julia's direction. Julia, for her part, turned to look accusingly at Juhi, but there was only so much anger you could muster up at your own self. Little as she liked it, Julia had to admit that if she was as bone-deep frightened as Juhi was, she'd likely have betrayed anyone in a heartbeat. 

Which meant it was time for Julia to speak up. She opened her mouth and meant to say, _I'm afraid I have plans for tonight that don't involve being sacrificed_ in her most debonair tones, but before she could, the priestesses of Asheth were inside her mind. It seemed not only were the priestesses of this world rather strong magic users than Mum had described, but they also had no compunction about using it against potential sacrifices. Julia could feel them, poking and prodding throughout her history, examining with relish the fact that she was a much-beloved child (and, the part of Julia that was still her own thought a little sadly that she never had thought of it that way), with glee the sheer magic that could be drained from her corpse once she was dead. Because she would be, of course; Asheth must bring the world to life again with her tears and her child's blood. 

_I BELONG TO CHRESTOMANCI CASTLE! I BELONG TO CHRESTOMANCI CASTLE!_

What in heaven's name was Chrestomanci Castle? 

_I BELONG TO CHRESTOMANCI CASTLE! I BELONG TO CHRESTOMANCI CASTLE!_

Pictures began to flow back from her memory. The Family, Cat, Klartch, Janet, Roger, Daddy--and Mummy, who'd been Asheth, who had been worshipped by those awful priestesses who had the dreadful manners to poke about her mind--get out! 

Aghast at the intrusion, Julia flung out as much of her magic at the priestesses as she could; when she opened her eyes, she saw both of them reeling. Beside her, Mummy tucked the pearls back one last time. 

"This is," Mummy said, in a voice so toneless it might have been Dad's, "quite enough. I happen to know that Asheth has never been particularly discriminating about the lives she claims." She pointed to the orange cat. "One of her kitten's nine will do well enough, but certainly no blood has to be spilled. And rest assured I will keep an eye on the doings of this world myself. And--" she paused "--should anyone else be so foolish as to ever again attack any daughter of mine in any world, I am afraid the consequences will be quite severe indeed." 

With that, she swept out of the room, Julia following behind her. Once they were on the marble stairs outside, Julia said: "That was rather splendid, Mum." 

Mum smiled at her, a true Mum smile, though she did look weary. So Julia dared to ask: "Was it really so bad, being the Living Asheth?" 

Mum blinked. "Not particularly, my love. More dull than anything, at least until I met your father." Which was probably true, but for the first time, Julia considered the fact that Mum might have more to her than just being eternally cheerful and eternally competent. 

Mum looked off to the side and sighed. "And while on the subject of your father, there he goes again, worrying. I expect we should call for him before he goes gray and drives us all mad complaining about it." 

* * *

What happened next was this: Julia had enough time to make a fashionably late appearance before Nicky Bedford had even thought of approaching the hors d'oeuvres, and Janet and Marianne were so curious to know all the details of what had happened that it quite went to Julia's head for a week. Mum must have told Dad, too, because for the next few days, a number of reports began arriving on his desk in the study, but quite obviously it had been Mum who had managed it all. 

And this happened too: the next time Mum went to Ten-B to make sure the priestesses of Asheth had kept their promise, she didn't go alone. Julia came along, in part to let Juhi know she forgave her, in part to let Mum hold her hand to remind Mum of the life waiting for her in Twelve-A. Of course, that didn't at all account for the disaster with the monkey, the ball-court, and poor Rajiv's arcane scrolls--but that was a story for a different time.


End file.
